


Bring more knives

by DisasterSoundtrack



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 13:08:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2694173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisasterSoundtrack/pseuds/DisasterSoundtrack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snow sticks to Frank's hair and his eyelashes and Gerard wants to take a picture, because something in his soul is actually crying out loud at the sight of this beautiful, beautiful creature. Something is very not alright with Frank smiling like that, like he's a child and everything around him is pure and true, and the snow on his fucking eyelashes, goddamn.<br/>So this is life. This is how being alive feels like, thinks Gerard in one of these moment that hit him square in the chest sometimes. </p><p>(For Gerard, love always felt like falling, or falling apart.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bring more knives

Gerard likes the color black, okay, he just fucking likes it. He used to like all the colors, he used to enjoy the way they splash against white paper, meddling together, creating gradients and shades. Sometimes he would cover his hands in paint and just smear them against the surface of the paper. Sometimes he would breathe in the smell of his pens and brushes and it would calm him down just as well as pills.  
  
But for today, he just likes the black. Maybe some red sometimes. As simple as possible. Darkness is his place, darkness feels like home.  
  
There's way too much light in this studio space and his head hurts. Frank is jumping up and down, he just wants to go again, again, again, through the song and rewind, but Gerard can't fucking think straight anymore, he can't see straight and he just wants everybody to shut the fuck up, alright.  
  
"That's it, guys", he says just this, puts his headphones down and heads out as quickly as possible. California is making him sweat as soon as he sets foot outside, only to be caught by the arm by concerned Mikey. "Are you okay to drive?"  
  
He shakes his head, but he actually wants to say yeah, he's fine.  
  
"Can you drive me? Can the guys take, like, a cab back?"  
  
"Okay, I'll let them know. Just sit in the car, Gee."  
  
Gerard turns on the radio. Noise, noise, noise. Enough already.  
  
Mikey comes back minutes later and starts the engine. They drive to the apartment they're renting in LA in reasonable silence, until Mikey says, "We're doing really well with this album, you know. You can stop stressing over this."  
  
"Can we just don't talk about this? Or, like, at all? My head is gonna explode."  
  
"Sure, no problem."  
  
When they reach the place, Gerard says goodnight to Mikey and heads straight to his room, not even straying to the kitchen, even though he's hungry. Too tempting. He strips from his clothes. A glass of water, valium, pillow, night.  
  
It feels like a dream when a few hours later his door opens and Frank sways in, smelling a bit like beer and a lot like cigarettes, bends over Gerard and kisses his forehead gently.  
  
There's absolutely no reason for him to be doing this, so maybe this is a dream after all.

***

It's snowing when they come back to Jersey, so Gerard is wearing this stupid coat with a furry hood while he's smoking one after another in Frank's garden. Frank is running around in the white fluff, chasing his dogs, tumbling to the ground and rolling around with them. The dogs flee for their lives at some point and Frank is just rolling in the snow by himself, grabbing handfulls and throwing in the air. Gerard thinks _to hell with it_ and falls down next to Frank, making snow angels and starting a snow fight.  
  
Snow sticks to Frank's hair and his eyelashes and Gerard wants to take a picture, because something in his soul is actually crying out loud at the sight of this beautiful, beautiful creature. Something is very not alright with Frank smiling like that, like he's a child and everything around him is pure and true, and the snow on his fucking eyelashes, goddamn.  
  
So this is life. This is how being alive feels like, thinks Gerard in one of these moment that hit him square in the chest sometimes.  
  
When they tumble into Frank's house they're both drenched and shivering, Frank cursing profusely, so Gerard takes his jacket and waits for him to drop his shoes, pants and socks. Then he wraps him up in a blanket and makes them tea.  
  
"Can you pass me a towel?"  
  
Frank is drying his hair with a kitchen towel when Gerard puts the mugs on a coffee table. It looks warm and comfy on the couch next to Frankie, so he slides right there under the blanket with him, everything else be damned. Frank starts drying Gerard's hair and it just feels good.  
  
"You could give head massages for a living, seriously."  
  
"Shut up." Frank laughs. "This record is gonna make us big, you know? Like, sold out stadiums, kids wearing our merch and stuff."  
  
"I know it's a good record."  
  
"No, it's not good, Gee. _Three Cheers_ is fucking amazing."  
  
"Don't jinx it, okay? Aren't we supposed be watching some movie?"  
  
"Yeah, buzzkill, let's watch a movie." Frank pats Gerard's arm and searches around for the remote. A dog climbs into Gerard's lap and it's all so comfortable Gerard wakes up at 2 AM with Frank's head somewhere on his thigh and white snow still falling softly behind the window.

***  
  
They listen to the produced version of _I'm Not Okay_ for the first time. Ray's foot starts tapping really fast and Gerard feels the movement against his knee. Mikey is holding his hands behind his head, frowning, concentrating on what's happening on the screen, all the soundwaves and shit. Gerard immerses himself in his own voice roaring through the speakers, he tries to find pleasure in it, emotions pump their way inside his veins and he spares one very charged, unintentional look at Frank sitting on the desk. Frank looks back with hunger, something dark lurking behind his skin, and Gerard emerges from the song a new person. He emerges more of a whole when the song ends and Mikey exclaims "Holy shit!", Ray follows with a simple "That's awesome" and Gerard nods with a grin just to notice Frank has left the room and the only thing he wants to do is to follow, so he does.  
  
Frank is waiting right behind the studio door, all of the emotions painted on his face and just like that they fall into each other's touch, hands slipping underneath the T-shirts, Gerard dropping Frank's denim jacket to the floor. He's slowly dragging his lips along his friend's neck, feeling Frank breathing in sharp cuts against his ear, clinging to him, and then Gerard asks out loud even though he doesn't really mean to, "What the hell are we doing?".  
  
Everything breaks, they are staring in each other's faces, shoving hands into pockets and Frank is laughing uncomfortably.  
  
"Fuck, I'm so sorry", says Gerard and Frank tells him it's okay, that they've been pumped up on the song and it's okay, really, pats him on the back and picks his jacket up from the floor, so they can get back to the guys.

***  
  
All the interviews and photoshoots and TV appearances are wrecking Gerard's health. He can barely speak, and they have a tour scheduled in a month and a half, so he'd really like to be able to sing then. On the other hand, it's so fucking nice to be getting the attention. Everybody is being really sweet to them and the record is exceeding all the expectations.  
  
It's a whirlwind.  
  
Mikey is sadder a lot more. He's on the phone with Alicia all the time. Frank is throwing up every morning and night, unable to stick to his diet, Gerard is drinking too much and throwing up with him. Ray is trying to hold the entire mess together and Bob just doesn't give a fuck until explicitly asked to.  
  
Gerard is walking the streets of New York with Mikey on a chilly March night, looking for new comic book stores, new bars and new places for Mikey to move in with Alicia.  
  
"So tell me how it's like, being in love with her?"  
  
Mikey's eyes go a little fond behind the glasses.  
  
"I don't know if I can put it in words."  
  
"Try. Try for me, bro."

"It's like, every day I wake up with her, I feel like it's a good thing I woke up. Feels like purpose, more purpose, like warmth inside of me. I want to make sure she stays as warm as I am all the time."  
  
For Gerard, love always felt like falling, or falling apart.

***  
  
He's having empty days. He's sitting in his old basement for hours, taking in everything he loves and hates because he loves it so much. In a fit of desperation, he grabs a few cardboard boxes and collects old comic books, old drawings, records he didn't listen to for years, dog – eared books he went through several times in high school, some art supplies, packs everything inside his car and drives up to New York, to this white impersonal apartment he bought recently, and scatters all the stuff in random places. It feels a little better, but still not entirely his, still not a home, will this place ever be a home?  
  
Why is growing up so hard?  
  
He plugs in his laptop and turns music on, something fast and angry. He's feeling rather slow and sad, but whatever. He smokes a cigarette. The view from the window is quite miserable, some rickety trees and a backyard of a pub. He finds a clean piece of paper and writes until he's tired.  
  
When he finishes, it's not even dark out yet.  
  
He calls Frank.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Hey, wanna come over? I have booze and movies."  
  
"Make sure you have pizza and some spare pillows."  
  
"Gonna have that as well."  
  
"I'll be there in an hour. Are you okay?"  
  
Of course Frank is worried. Nothing new.  
  
"No, not really. Not not – okay either. Just somewhere in the neutral space."  
  
"I'm getting in the car right now. See you soon, Gee."

***  
  
They don't watch a movie after all. Frank refuses to smoke in Gerard's new place and goes out to the balcony with each cigarette. They devour a pizza and talk about making it, about being successful, about the upcoming tour. At one point Frank's face lights up with a brilliant idea and he runs outside to his car. When he comes back five minutes later, he's carrying a huge poster from one of their _Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge_ photoshoots, each of them looking sinister with red eye make – up, and they hang the poster up right above the television set.  
  
Frankie is grinning beautifully. Gerard moves from the neutral zone into the okay zone.  
  
When it's finally dark outside, Frank is on the floor with his head rested on Gerard's legs, going over some childhood story, something so Jersey Gerard is laughing. He's treading his fingers through Frank's stupid short hair that's already started to grow out wild, breathing in that weird firewood smell.  
  
He gives Frankie his own bed for the night, which Frank gracefully accepts. He settles on the couch which, luckily, is comfortable enough.  
  
All of the booze sits in a kitchen cabinet, untouched.

***  
  
It's a week before the tour and Frank is coming over much more often now, but it's fine with Gerard. He's writing a lot, he's trying to get a hold on those new fresh ideas. Some of them turn into words, some into drawings, some into guitar notes and it's raining through the entire June in New York. Ray throws an engagement party. Mikey creates a perfect love nest for himself and Alicia. Gerard feels almost calm and almost able to sleep at night.  
  
He's drinking a lot less, too.  
  
A doorbell breaks his afternoon nap one Saturday. Frank is at his door, soaking wet and terrified of something.  
  
"What's happening?"  
  
"Nothing, can I, can I sit down?"  
  
"Why the fuck are you even asking me this? Come on in, just, just let me fucking hang this". Gerard intercepts Frank's wet jacket, finds a hanger and hangs it over his bathtub. When he comes back to the living room, Frank is on the couch, bending his fingers nervously.  
  
"Okay, Frank, is this a panic attack? Is that what's happening?", asks Gerard, because Frankie is breathing like it's the hardest thing ever and has trouble focusing his gaze. "I'm right here with you, I'm going to see you through this, don't worry. I know this hurts, but you have to breathe."  
  
Gerard sits on the couch next to Frank, grabbing his hand, and Frank grips back, furiously and painfully.  
  
"Always here for me, huh? You are fucking throwing me into a mental phase, I swear, Gerard, I don't know how you're doing this." Frank's eyes are flying over Gerard's entire body and Gerard just wants all of this to end, because this is freaking scary and he has no idea what is actually going on.  
  
"Okay, just... okay, Frank, stop it."  
  
He throws caution to the wind and lunges forward to kiss Frank, to shut him up, stop him from shaking.  
  
They've been waiting too long for this. Months too long, years maybe, because they inhale each other in one sharp motion and Gerard groans in an embarassing way, but Frank swallows the groan and doesn't care anymore. Teeth are clashing against each other and the lip ring feels insanely cold and smooth under Gerard's tongue. They both taste the dry spell and the fucking wait, the built – up tension, they both tangle fingers in each other's hair but it's just Frank who pulls, who is forcing himself into the kiss more and Gerard is not sure he can handle more.  
  
This is Frankie, this is the beautiful creature with snow on his eyelashes but also this savage animal trying to bite the inside of Gerard's mouth.  
  
This is how being alive with Frank feels like, Gerard thinks in a second of clarity that isn't full of just _Frankfrankfrankie_. And it feels pretty damn good.  
  
They slow down to an almost tender pace and then break apart. Gerard thinks he's gonna have to force Frank to look at him, so he holds on to Frank's face, but Frank is not struggling. He's calm again.  
  
"You alright?", he asks Gerard.  
  
"Me? Of course I'm alright, what about you? What was that – before?"  
  
Frank just shrugs.  
  
"Please give me a drink and don't ask me that again."  
  
Frankie rests his forehead against Gerard's chest and Gerard holds him tight for a while before standing up to bring some booze from the kitchen.

***

They end up pretty shitfaced that night, throwing popcorn at the TV if the soap opera characters are making bad choices, they're blasting Black Flag and making out at random intervals. It's always Frank who's going for it. Gerard is laughing way too much and holding Frank way too close all the time. Right before they pass out in Gerard's bed after the last makeout session (they are actually in bed together, how the hell did that even happen?), he's wondering about whether this would still be real in the morning. Things tend to look different in the daylight; sometimes the ideas that seemed brilliant in the evening will be plain ridiculous by day.  
  
Frank drunkenly mumbles something like "Fuck, Gerard, you're like the coolest person I've ever met", and all the lights go out.

***  
  
Frank wakes up with a loud grunt that makes Gerard open his eyes wide and fully embrace the terrible headache of a hangover morning. He looks at Frank, half – clothed, still half asleep and basically the embodiment of mess and his heart is beating very fast because suddenly he remembers last night in very bright colors.  
  
"Fuck", mutters Frank instead of a 'good morning'. "Do you have water or something?"  
  
"Yeah. Water. Coffee? Food?"  
  
"Absolutely no food."  
  
"Right."

He's fucking around with the coffee machine when Frank walks into the kitchen annex, never bothering with the clothes, fixing his hair or anything.  
  
"Morning."  
  
"Morning, Frank. Are we gonna be awkward with each other now?" He decides to throw this one to the table first because it's eating away at him.  
  
"Well, I don't intend to. Do you?"  
  
"No. But I think you should eat something anyway."  
  
"Oatmeal maybe? On water, no milk."  
  
"Oatmeal it is."  
  
He keeps Frank's disgusting oats in a cabinet just above the sink.

***  
  
Gerard has never felt such energy. The tour has just begun, but the crowd is amazing every night, young faces full of hope and trust in them, trust in that bunch of Jersey boys who just wanted to mess around a little. Now, they're making a difference.  
  
So Gerard screams his lungs out and gives a hundred percent on each show, on vocal rest for the entire day or just as much as he can manage.  
Mikey is smiling. He's still a little overwhelmed by the size of everything, but he's smiling all the same and it's making Gerard feel a little better. Ray is top of his game like always and Frankie is like a fucking hamster fueled by cigarettes and Red Bull, full of power, grinning and toothachingly sweet for everybody.  
  
Still, they drink themselves into oblivion every other night. In the tourbus, Ray puts a list on the fridge: _Reasons why we shouldn't drink._ Sometimes he would add something to it, sometimes Frank would. Gerard and Bob cross out all the reasons. Gerard draws Ray with penises for hair underneath "9. Liver damage".  
  
Gerard tries to stay sober for shows, and that's working. The energy is flowing between the band members, he's screaming "I miss my mom, will they give me a chair?" into Frank's ear and he's not the least bit surprised when Frank runs over to him during Ray's short guitar solo, drags his face closer, locking lips and all of the fireworks explode while the crowd screams their lungs out just like Gerard does every night.

***

Frank is being a wild animal on those shows, honestly. He's just fucking hot like a burning stove, bending over his guitar, jumping, thrashing with the music, opening his mouth, opening his eyes to stare at all the people and Gerard would see in his eyes how much he's amazed and thrilled by all of this, only he's too busy being amazed himself. But Frank is a turn – on offstage just as well. One time Gerard sees him on the bus changing shoelaces in his old beat up black converse, his perfect ink – painted arms flexing, black hair all over his face, and just has to lock the two of them in the claustrophobic bathroom. Frank is even hotter when he's leaving red marks on Gerard's chest, biting hard, causing painful friction in his underwear.  
  
They're not going any further for some reason. They are still learning each other, even though there's nothing more to learn. Gerard is never surprised by the horny look on Frank's face during _Prison_ or _Give 'Em Hell, Kid_ (especially the part where Gerard sings "Well don't I look pretty walking down the street in the best damn dress I own?", trying to be as feminine as he can). Gerard is never surprised that Frank has to kiss Gerard at least once before he falls asleep. Frank is never surprised when he finds little pieces of paper with random doodles in his pockets.

***  
  
Frank is only surprised when they have only two more shows to go and he's throwing up in the bathroom, Gerard holding back his hair, completely sober, even though Mikey is somewhere out there in Chicago drinking with Fall Out Boy (maybe blowing Pete Wentz in the parking lot but who cares).  
  
"What the hell, man? Why aren't you out with the guys?"  
  
Frank is pale and looking at him through teary eyes. Gerard has to say the words he's been dreading to say. Saying them will make them too fucking real.  
  
"I'm going clean."  
  
They are sitting on the floor by the toilet and Frank holds Gerard's hand in silent understanding.

***  
  
Gerard is fucking furious by the time the tour ends, but they're okay with it, they're supportive, they're trying really hard and they give one hell of a closing show, charged with anger and sex and punk rock and Gerard is really fucking furious. He puts on a face for the interviewers and for the fans, except it is much easier with the fans. He refuses to put on a face for his bandmates.  
  
He goes home in fumes of self – loathing.  
  
When they part and Gerard reaches his apartment, he sleeps for two uneasy days, never picking up his phone.

***  
  
On the third day the doorbell rings. He considers not answering at first, but then someone starts banging at the door and he hears "Gee, you fucker, open up or I'm breaking in".  
  
Mikey has brought groceries. Sometimes Gerard thinks the boy is an angel walking the Earth to help the slightly less fortunate.  
  
"Fuck, man, you smell."  
  
"I guess I could shower."  
  
"And shave."  
  
"Too much effort. Mikeeeeey, I'm dying here", Gerard tries to pull off a drama queen/whining baby hybrid, but Mikey never falls for this stuff.  
  
"Frankie's been worried sick about you. He's been calling you for two days straight, and texting."  
  
"Why didn't he come over if he was so worried?"  
  
Mikey looks up from the omelettes he's making.  
  
"Because you're an asshole? I don't know, can't remember his bullshit excuse."  
  
Frank was probably just scared of Gerard's reaction, and the thought makes Gerard's guts twist of guilt. He was so self – absorbed lately.  
  
"What is going on between the two of you, Gee?"  
  
He considers telling Mikey everything, but damn it, Mikey probably knows anyway, he's just requesting confirmation now.  
  
"We are – I don't know, lots of stuff. Hard to explain."  
  
"Figure this out, okay? He keeps calling me and I have things to do."  
  
"Yeah, I'll call him, promise."  
  
Mikey slides a plate across the kitchen table to Gerard. The omelette smells delicious and Mikey also made real coffee, with milk and sugar Gerard will never admit he loves so much.  
  
"I've enrolled you in a support group. The meeting is today."  
  
Gerard just accepts everything silently. He wants this, he's going to have this. He's facing all the devils. He's going through this.

***  
  
He takes a long walk back home from the support group. It's warm out and he's feeling a little less like dying.  
  
Frank is sitting by his apartment door at the top of the staircase. His face features are sharper than ever, is he eating anything at all?  
  
"Hey, Frankie."  
  
"You're an asshole, you know that?"  
  
"Mikey told me. For what it's worth, I'm sorry."  
  
"I don't think you even know what you're sorry for", says Frank, standing up, grabbing Gerard firmly by the shoulders and twisting them so he can pin Gerard to the wall and steal all of his air.  
  
Oh fuck, he's been missing this, he's been missing this unconsciously. This distinct smell of Frank's hair and skin, the way their lips efortlessly slide together but Frank always making this harder on purpose, always adding a little edge to the kisses.  
  
"I missed you", he tells Frank as quietly as possible, opening his apartment door and Frank is pushing him in, unable or unwilling to stop, undoing Gerard's pants in a blind rush for everything.  
  
Frank pushes their naked groins together, forcing a dirty moan out of Gerard. They are still wearing their jackets and shoes, their pants around their ankles, but Frank seems like he's had enough and wraps his palm around Gerard's hard cock.  
  
"I missed you too. I missed you for years."  
  
The words hang in the air between them and Gerard starts undresing Frank with attention, taking everything in: the fact how much weight Frank has lost during the tour, the tattoos, the goosebumps, the scar on his inner thigh he never knew existed.  
  
"We are going to be okay, Gee."  
  
He's dizzy when Frankie is climbing on top of him on the couch, asking to work him open, and Gerard is squeezing the lube Frank brought along to his fingers, biting on Frank's lower lip in a newfound rush. Somehow he knows Frank is either going to moan and grunt shamelessly through the entire thing or be freakishly quiet.  
  
When he slides one finger inside of Frank, the moaning theory confirms.  
  
"Faster, Gee, faster. I've had it with the waiting, come on, _faster._ "  
  
Gerard complies, because he wants it just as much.

***  
  
For the first time, it doesn't feel like falling, or falling apart.  
  
It feels more like building something new.

***  
  
After three fingers and a hundred curse words Frank decides he's ready and Gerard just works his way in, slowly, observing the look on his partner's face carefully.  
He feels just like Frank looks when he's buried deep inside, not even daring to move. Out of nowhere he's terrified like never before.  
  
"I'm going to ruin this, Frankie."  
  
"No you're not", Frank grunts out, kissing Gerard's temple, and he starts rolling his hips. Gerard can hardly take this, so this time it's him who curses and holds tighter onto Frank's forearms.  
  
Frank builds up a pace, but Gerard really wants to take over, so he starts thrusting with all the energy he has and Frank lets out a stacatto of delicious moans. Their sweaty thighs are sliding together. Frank is hurting Gerard's back with his fingernails and then they're kissing again, sloppy and open – mouthed and way too much saliva and not really registering anything but each other.  
  
Gerard remembers 9/11 and the towers falling before his eyes. Gerard listens to Frank moaning "Fuck yes" into his ear and two memories blend into one in the strangest of ways, just because their magnitude is the same for Gerard.  
  
It is quite a life – altering experience.  
  
Frank hisses "Touch me" and Gerard wonders why, he already is, but then he understands and wraps his fingers around Frank's erection. They are riding it off, crazy fast, Frank is biting his neck and Gerard jerking the other man off.  
  
The room bursts out in strange new smells and white, everything white, everywhere. He's coming hard, holding Frank by the hair to keep their gazes locked. He can feel the waves of pleasure going through Frank, he can feel warm liquid all over his stomach and chest.  
  
Frankie gives out one last little moan and then smiles, mischief managed, almost blinding Gerard, brighter than the living room lights.  
  
"You planned this! You bastard!" Gerard is smiling too, how could he not? He kisses Frank affectionately above the ear and tries and fails to fix his messy black hair.  
  
"Of course I have. Now let's go out so you could buy me a hot dog."

***  
  
Frank's phone goes off at the weirdest hour of the night, but it's on Gerard's side of the bed.  
  
"What?", asks the messy pile of hair from a pillow. "Who is it?"  
  
Gerard looks at the caller ID.  
  
"Dewees. You wanna pick up?"  
  
Frank takes the phone and answers it only to say "Piss off, I'll call in the morning."  
  
"Why is he calling you at 4 AM?"  
  
"He probably wants to know if we're finally fucking."  
  
Gerard is sleepy, but this would be funny at any time of day or night.  
  
"You told Dewees?"  
  
"Yeah. I could tell either him or Mikey, so you should be glad."  
  
It is hard for Gerard to ignore the warmth spreading in his chest just from looking at Frank asleep in his bed.

***  
  
For a year, they just live.  
  
Ray gets married in the summer among white flowers, expensive glass and tablecloths; Mikey gets engaged. Frank spends entire weeks in Gerard's apartment. They wake up too early and stay up too late, running through musical ideas together or just touching each other.  
  
Gerard is working on a comic book again, remembering how much fun and satisfaction it brings him. Sobriety gets easier.  
  
Frank is seeing his long forgotten old friends and taking care of his dogs. He's eating well, too.  
  
They're just living lives before The Black Parade comes along.

***  
  
At the beginning, Frank comes to Gerard for comfort. He comes over because he's had a bad day or because he got frustrated writing music. He comes over because he left his anxiety meds at Gerard's place and starts undressing as soon as the door behind him closes, without a word, and Gerard falls for it with a heartache, without batting an eyelash.  
  
Gerard shows up at Frank's place only twice: once after Mikey decided to drink half the liquor store and then needed to be saved from some shady Brooklyn street, and Gerard felt so angry and hopeless he hated the idea of a lonely night.  
  
The second time it's simply because the weather sucks.

As the time goes by, it turns out Gerard is not so terrible at making food Frank can actually eat, so they sit at his kitchen island devouring a vegatarian lasagne and laughing over something silly, and Gerard suddenly sees Frank in a whole new light. He takes in the smile that could light up rooms and the messy black hair, the takes in the fingernails clipped very short and the warm brown eyes, a dozen unmatching bracelets on the guitarist's wrist and he has to hold onto the table because his knees give up.  
  
At that moment, he surrenders to the feeling. He doesn't feel like looking back anymore.  
  
"Let's have sex", he says, interrupting Frank mid – sentence. Frankie freezes with his fork in the air, amused.  
  
"Can I finish eating first?"  
  
"Not really." Gerard really needs it. He doesn't know how to tell Frank what he's feeling, he just has to show him. It's yet another form of art.  
  
Frankie himself is yet another form of art, smiling cheekily at him.  
  
"Well, if you put it like that... But we're doing it right here."  
  
Gerard fucks Frank most tenderly against the kitchen counter.

***  
  
One time Frank comes over wearing actual shorts. Gerard stares, and then stares some more.  
  
"Seriously?"  
  
"Yeah, it's hot outside, you twat, you might consider wearing shorts too."  
  
"I think I don't even own something like that."  
  
"Well, that's a shame, because we're going roadtripping."  
  
They drive to Long Island in Frank's car. It's full – blown summer, but Gerard is wearing all black anyway. As it turns out Frank has found a nice, quiet place with a beautiful view of the coast and the ocean, so they sit in the shade at the hood of the car, eating ice cream and Gerard thinks maybe this is a good time to tell Frankie what he wants to tell him.  
  
"Hey Frank?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"You know this thing where we sleep together and laugh about it the next day, and then do it all over again?"  
  
Frank looks confused, but is still smiling. There's some ice cream in the corner of his mouth.  
  
"We do that, yeah."  
  
"You frustrate me, you know?"  
  
"I frustrate you? Why, Gee?"  
  
"I don't know how to tell you stuff."  
  
They go silent, just staring at the sparkling water. Gerard wonders how it would feel like between his toes. Hugging his thighs. Flooding his lungs.  
  
"Why? Am I doing something wrong?"  
  
"No, I don't think so. I just have no idea how to tell you stuff, Frankie. And there's so much stuff I want to tell you."  
  
Frank lies down, head on Gerard's lap, looking at the sky.  
  
"Let me know when you figure this out."  
  
"I think I can start with the little things."  
  
"Go on, Gee."  
  
"You have the most adorable smile." Gerard bends over and pecks Frank on the mouth. Frank returns a chaste kiss.  
  
"Thanks, but you've told me that already, like, years ago."  
  
"Well, fuck."

***  
  
One night Gerard wakes up and doesn't go to sleep for two following nights, writing lyrics, chords, sketching. Frank calls Mikey and Alicia and they come over to watch Gerard as if he was a museum exhibit. They can talk to him but he won't respond, just shrugging everything off, sometimes drinking water or coffee they bring him. Pages after pages fill out with words and drawings, loose ideas scattered and connected by arrows. A patient. A parade of death souls. A marching band. Fire.  
  
On the third morning Frank and his dog are napping on Gerard's couch only to be woken up by Gerard's throaty scream, "Frankie!"  
  
"What?" Frank scrambles up from the couch, rubbing his eyes.  
  
"Call the guys. Tell them to come here ASAP. I have... I have an idea."  
  
"Yeah, we kind of noticed. You've been in the zone for two days straight, you know?"  
  
Gerard is smiling. He feels like he's going to pass out any minute, but he's holding the idea of a lifetime in his hands.  
  
"Sorry. I'm starving. Will you call the guys?"  
  
"I'll call them and I'll make you food while you shower, alright?"  
  
"And coffee."  
  
"And coffee, sure."  
  
"You're the best." Gerard kisses Frank's neck on his way to the bathroom.  
  
"I fucking know."

***  
  
The Black Parade is born among pain. They are fighting a lot, but Ray calls the fights 'creative disputes' and the songs are shaping up to be better than anything they've ever written. Gerard's big idea is linking everything together.  
  
It is hard and tiring, but it makes Gerard feel alive. If he gets to see the fire in Frank's eyes again that's all he really wants to see. If he gets to hear the music filling up the room, that's all he wants to hear.  
  
He takes everything in. He drinks his morning coffee in a coffee shop at the corner of his street, listening to the noises outside. He takes a cab and watches a local band tear apart the stage in Queens. He takes Frank to the top of Empire State Building and grabs his hand while they stare down, cold wind making their eyes all teary.  
  
Mikey's relationship is not going so smoothly. They keep trying out their new music, they write and experiment and he is often late, tired, movements blurry, definitely on some new medication. He says it's all under control and Gerard believes him, even though he shouldn't.  
  
They book a studio in California and prepare to leave.

***  
  
Gerard and Frank take separate rooms in a Burbank hotel to stay on the down low.  
  
Mikey is staring at his brother suspiciously after they do that and Ray is frowning.  
  
"You guys don't like each other anymore or what?", asks Mikey.  
  
Frank is talking to Bob by the elevators, so he doesn't hear the conversation. Gerard facepalms very hard.  
  
"Come on, Gee", says Ray, "did you really think you were doing a good job hiding it?"  
  
Gerard is left speechless. Mikey is giggling and Ray is looking at him with a face of a disappointed dad.  
  
They take separate rooms anyway. Not that they actually use both of them.

***  
  
The album is being called "legendary". An anthem of a new generation. A modern rock classic.  
  
It's a lot of pressure to deal with.  
  
Frank's stomach aches again.  
  
Gerard cuts his hair short and bleaches it. When Frank sees him like that for the first time, he laughs for ten minutes straight, but then they go to bed and Gerard receives a messy blowjob, interrupted by Frank telling him how hot he looks.  
  
"It's not about looking hot, I am making a statement!"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, shut up."

***  
  
Mikey is crumbling. One night Gerard is at his place, watching over him carefully, making sure he doesn't choke on his own vomit. Mikey is crying, drunk, drugged and shaking terribly. Gerard hopes that this is his brother's rock bottom, that maybe he'll finally wake up.  
  
He really wants to pray, but he believes in no God. He also really wants a drink.  
  
"Gee?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Would you still love me if I told you I've done something terrible?"  
  
"Of course I would."  
  
"Okay." Mikey takes a deep breath and spends twenty minutes slurring out confessions about an ongoing affair with Pete Wentz. When he gets to the point where he's talking about the warm feeling in his chest every time they see each other or kiss or touch, Gerard is terrified.  
  
He's heard enough.  
  
"So when are you breaking up with Alicia?"  
  
"I'm not." Mikey is sobering up and crying even harder now. Gerard wraps a blanket around his brother's arms and prepares himself for the final blow. "We're getting married before the tour."

***  
  
They're in Miami, sleeping off after another show when Frank wakes up coughing. Gerard doesn't react, it's just coughing, no big deal, but then Frank is shaking him by the arm.  
  
"Gerard? Gee."  
  
Gerard moans.  
  
"Yeah? Yeah, I'm awake, 'sup?"  
  
"Blood."  
  
"What? Where?"  
  
Gerard switches on a lamp and Frank spreads his palms in front of him. There's blood all over them.  
  
There's also blood all over their duvet after another coughing fit two minutes later.  
  
"Is that the first time this happens?", yells Gerard, pulling on his pants while Frank is bent over a bathroom sink.  
  
"Yeah", he spurts out between coughs.  
  
Gerard helps Frank put some clothes on and they ride the elevator, Frank hiding in Gerard's arms, pressing a tissue to his mouth. He's probably terrified, but he won't ever say it.  
  
Gerard hails a cab to the nearest hospital. He's holding Frank at the back of the car, caressing his hair, whispering how it's going to be okay. Frank takes out a third tissue.  
  
In the hospital they find out coughing up blood is not exactly top of the emergency list. They spend almost an hour waiting for a doctor to examine Frank. When Frank disappears behind white door (Gerard hates the hospital white, he fucking plain hates it), Gerard texts Mikey. He has no idea how long it's going to last here and they're supposed to be back on the road by 9 AM.  
  
Frank leaves the doctor's office twenty minutes later with a bottle of pills and a relieved expression.  
  
"So?", asks Gerard, impatient.  
  
"No big deal, actually. All of the throwing up is ruining my oesophagus, hence the bleeding. I got these brand new pills, I'm gonna be fine, wow, Gee, come on".   
  
Gerard is hugging Frank very tight in the middle of a hallway, neverminding the people rushing past them.  
  
They go back to the hotel for the remaining three hours of sleep. Gerard texts Mikey that they're back and everything is fine, making sure that Mikey doesn't freak out reading the previous text when he wakes up.  
  
Frank is in bed, still a little pale, but not coughing anymore.  
  
Gerard slides between the sheets next to him, holding him by the hands and staring into his dark orbs. He's had enough of this bullshit. He's had enough of the fact that he can't put a name on the best thing in his life.  
  
"You freaked me out pretty damn well tonight, you know?"  
  
Frank nods, entwining their fingers. "I'm sorry."  
  
"Don't be. I love you."  
  
Gerard tells it like it is. He has fallen long ago. He puts a name to the thing. It's a big step, but he feels ready.  
  
Frank smiles, all the teeth, still traces of blood on them.  
  
"Really? How long did it take you to figure it out?"  
  
"Come on, Frank, don't be like that."  
  
"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I love you too, you moron."  
  
He scoots closer to Gerard, kissing him and Gerard can taste the blood at the end of his tongue, twisting his hands in the fabric of Frankie's white T – shirt.  
  
They fall asleep just before they have to get up.

***  
  
It's Dewees, their temporary keyboardist and Frank's longtime friend who brings Gerard's attention to how much time Frank is spending in bathrooms. It's Dewees who picks them all up from the figurative floor after Mikey leaves them for a while to at least try and save things with Alicia.  
  
It's Dewees who has no idea Gerard is a recovering addict and casually offers him scotch before a Moscow show.  
  
It's Ray who punches Dewees then.  
  
The shows make Gerard feel like he's The Patient. He's dying, but then he's being reborn. A better version of him comes out on the other end. He bows gracefully and the lights explode in his face and in his sore throat as well. The waves of music carry him behind the horizon of his own imagination.

***  
  
He's dreaming about the desert and laser guns and weirdly bright colors. He's dreaming about eating pancakes on the floor with Frank and he does just that the next day, only Frank is eating oatmeal with raspberries.

***  
  
Gerard takes Frank to the doctor in London. The doctor says, simply put, that it's bad.  
  
Frank fucking laughs in his face and refuses to be hospitalized.  
  
They have a huge fight that night.  
  
Gerard splits own lip biting it. He knows there are only three weeks of the tour left and that it means everything for Frank, but damn it, he wants Frank to be fucking healthy and _alive._  
  
Frank leaves Gerard's hotel room and the door rattles in its hinges.  
  
He comes back for angry sex three hours later and Gerard gives no fucks about the fact that Frank is sick, he is so angry at him he wants to tear him apart, he wants to make him suffer, make him hurt like he's hurting now, worried out of his mind.  
  
Angry sex turns into gentle love making pretty fast, with Gerard weeping openly on Frank's chest afterwards.  
  
"I hate how you make me feel sometimes, Frankie, I fucking hate it, it's like Mikey all over again. I hate the fact that I care."  
  
"So basically you hate being human."  
  
Gerard shuts up and lets Frank kiss the tears off his face.

***  
  
They finish the tour exhausted. Leaving the stage in Mexico City, Gerard feels like he's been drunk all his life. His head hurts like never before, he's both happy and miserable at the same time and suddenly the world shuts off and he passes out somewhere backstage.  
  
He regains consciousness to Mikey grinning at him, Bob holding a wet towel over his forehead and Frank throwing up into a trash can.  
  
"Let's just go home, guys."

***  
  
Frank and Gerard go straight to Gerard's New York apartment and fall asleep on the couch despite their best intentions to do it the right way. They wake up shortly before noon, with blurry visions and aching backs.  
  
In the cold light of the day, Frank's cheekbones stand out sharply. There are grey bags under his eyes, or maybe those are shades from his eyelashes.  
  
Gerard is breathing, slowly. He is holding onto the firewood smell of Frank's aftershave and yesterday's cigarettes. He's counting Frank's ribs but Frank wouldn't tell it apart from a simple touch.  
  
"I'll go to my parents' place now, alright? Then I'll grab some stuff and check myself in a hospital."  
  
He hovers over Frank on the couch. He wants to bury himself between the blankets forever.  
  
He just wants to sleep by Frankie's side for a thousand years.  
  
"Yeah. Do you want me to come with?"  
  
Frank shakes his head no.  
  
"You should rest. I'll call you tomorrow morning if you wanna come over."  
  
"Of course I want to."  
  
Gerard is reluctant to let Frank go.  
  
"My mom is probably gonna be there", says Frank.  
  
"You know your mom loves me."  
  
Frank giggles and swats Gerard's hand away, then dresses up and leaves. Gerard sinks into blankets and cold light and shallow sleep.

***  
  
He wakes up to six missed calls: four from an unknown number and two from Mikey. He calls Mikey first.  
  
"Gee. Don't freak out, alright?"  
  
"What? If you say it like that I'm freaking out right now."  
  
"Just come to University Hospital in Jersey as soon as you can."  
  
Gerard's insides freeze immediately.  
  
"Who?", he asks, even though he unconsciously knows the answer already.  
  
"Frank. Just get here fast, Gee."  
  
Gerard drives through the rain, hands moving frantically on the steering wheel, chainsmoking on the traffic lights. He's thinking about Frank vomiting blood and he can't get the image out of his mind; he can hardly concentrate on the driving, just traces of dark red on Frank's lips and how they tasted like metal.  
  
Frank's mother is in the waiting room, crying in Alicia's arms. Mikey is next to them, holding his wife's hand.  
  
"What happened?", asks Gerard walking in. Mikey stands up, his legs hardly holding him.  
  
"He was in an accident. Something must've happened, something wrong, because he swiveled himself into a ditch for no good reason."  
  
Gerard is gasping for breath. He hasn't had a panic attack for years and he won't let himself have one now, hell no. He pinches his own arm painfully to get out of this.  
  
"So how is he? Is anybody going to fucking tell me?"  
  
Alicia looks up at him, make – up smeared, shirt wet from Frank's mother's tears.  
  
"Nobody told us yet. He's in surgery, he's been in for hours now. We're all nervous, so you can bite it down, Gerard, okay?"  
  
"Jesus, Alicia, I'm sorry. If you cared about him half as much as I do maybe you'd understand that I want to know _IF HE'S ALIVE!_ "  
  
Alicia stands up to throw some insults at him, but he flips her off and Mikey drags her to sit back down. Frank's mom, Linda, leaves the room wailing.  
  
"Congratulations, people", snarks Mikey.  
  
A doctor in his mid – forties shows up and all the heads turn to him.  
  
"Are any of you Mr. Iero's family?", he asks, and Gerard is pissed, because honestly, yes, they are, they're fucking family like from here to San Diego and no doctor is gonna tell them otherwise, but Alicia runs to find Linda, and when they come back, the doctor finally starts talking.  
  
Gerard only hears some of his words.  
  
An accident.  
  
Head trauma.  
  
Surgery.  
  
Coma.

***  
  
He falls to pieces by Frankie's hospital bed. The nasty smell of the place is making him dizzy, he sits on the floor holding Frank's limp hand, hearing machines beeping and he's crying, he's crying very loudly, cursing and screaming and asking why and it all ends very fast with Mikey dragging him out of there, somebody giving him pills and a glass of water to wash them down and he's sitting in a plastic chair, staring through the whiteness, feeling his heart breaking.  
  
It all ends very fast. _Not a bang, but with a whimper_ , thinks Gerard, and then, _this is just pure bullshit._

***  
  
Gerard just likes the color black, okay. Even though some people say it's not even a color, but an anti – color or some shit, he just likes it. He hates the way the hospital is white, like everything in there is white, the walls, the floors, the machines, the aprons, the sheets, even Frank's face is white with black hair surrounding it in a cloud of sadness.  
  
They took out Frank's piercings. He looks like he's twenty years old, he looks like an angel and Gerard hates it. He listens to the machine beeping steadily in a white room and it makes him want to dye his growing hair black again, so he does.  
  
He really wants a drink. Just one drink would be good enough, but he knows he would never stop at just one, so he fights it. He fights it and one night when he's sure he won't make it, he goes to Mikey's place.  
  
Alicia opens up and is very surprised, because Mikey was supposed to be spending the night at Gerard's.  
  
He manages to blow his brother's cover and then ruin Ray's night in a span of just few hours.

***  
(Stage 1: Denial)

The doctors say it's hopeless.  
  
They have a lenghty conversation with Frank's mother about "pulling the plug", but she says no.  
  
Despite that fact, everybody kind of gives up after a few weeks.  
  
Gerard thinks everybody has gone insane while he wasn't looking. He smells like cigarettes and cold coffee he's drinking all the time when he shows up at the hospital, for the last time, he's telling himself.  
  
He's staring at Frank's face. He saw him sleeping so many times and this is not that different.  
  
Frank is sleeping, the tour has been tiring, his stomach has been giving a hard time and he just needs rest. So what if he needs more rest than people consider normal?  
  
Gerard kisses Frank's hand. It's warm. Then he kisses his cold, cold lips and leaves.  
  
Maybe if he sleeps too, he'll wake up to Frank calling him to say hello.

***  
(Stage 2: Anger)

There are crying fans all over Facebook and every other social network, there are interviewers trying to contact the band to get some information and Gerard refrains from spitting at them.  
  
They only make one note for their website.

_Please understand that we are going through a very tough time. Respect our right to sadness. Respect Frank's family privacy.  
Send happy thoughts in Frank's way and hopefully he'll be back with us in no time._

_We love you. Stay strong._

_Gerard, Mikey, Ray and Bob_

Mikey insists Gerard stays with him almost all the time, but it turns out Mikey has been banned to the couch and Gerard has to sleep on an inflatable bed.  
  
After four nights of immense back pains, the brothers move to Gerard's place. There is no Alicia throwing empty bottles and losing her temper, but his brother's expression is as empty as it used to be when he was in high school and Gerard is mad, but he doesn't know where to direct his anger.  
  
"When are you going to break up with her?"  
  
"I'm not, we're just going through a difficult time."  
  
"Difficult time my ass", says Gerard chugging another glass of icy cold water. "There is no use dragging out your misery, and hers."  
  
"I'm not miserable. We're going to see Frank tomorrow, you and me. You haven't been there for, like, two weeks."  
  
"No, I'm not going." There is no need. Frank won't hear what he's saying and he won't say anything back. "There is no use, Mikey."  
  
"No, you can't think that." His brother sits next to him by the kitchen island, swallowing his daily dose of medication. "Why don't you really want to go?"  
  
Gerard stares at the couch in his living room where he kissed Frank for the first time. He remembers the song that was playing when they were slowdancing in the kitchen and then laughing about it and Frank had hiccups. He remembers looking through the window after they shoot the _Welcome To The Black Parade_ video and feeling hopeful, on the right track. He remembers feeling happy eating crappy burgers with the guys in a crappy diner by the road.  
  
"Because I am freaking angry at him for leaving me like that", says Gerard quietly.

***  
  
When Mikey is asleep, Gerard decides to smash all of the plates in the kitchen. He really wants to feel his anger evaporate, but nothing much happens except Mikey wakes up and looks at him without saying a word.  
  
Gerard throws away the shells and goes back to bed.

He is numb in the morning. Completely.

***  
(Stage 3: Bargaining)

Ray sends Gerard an article about five stages of grief.  
  
_What the fuck, nobody died,_ thinks Gerard, and refuses to go through any of the stages.

***  
(Stage 4: Depression)

Eventually, Gerard goes to see Frank. Alone.  
  
Nothing has changed.  
  
The hospital still smells terrible and Frank still looks pale as a sheet of paper. They're shaving him regularly, washing his hair too, probably, but he doesn't smell like smoke and firewood anymore.  
  
He smells cold. Foreign.  
  
Gerard still wants him to wake up. He _needs_ him to wake up.  
  
"Hey, Frankie, it's me, Gerard", he says quietly, holding Frank's hand, careful not to mess up the tubes. "Yeah, I'm a cliché now, talking to someone who's in a coma, I know. You'd laugh at me so much. You'd also be proud of me, you know? I haven't touched a drink through all of this."  
  
_This is ridiculous_ , Gerard thinks, but he has to keep talking. He has to keep talking, even though his voice is breaking, because it's the only way to keep Frank alive, to keep Frank in his life.  
  
He's not ready to let go. He will never be ready to let go.  
  
He's afraid Frank's parents will be ready to let go very soon.

"I hate you. I hate you so much for doing this to me. I can't handle it alone, my life is just one giant black nothing without you in it, and Mikey is getting worse and worse. So please, Iero, cut it out and just wake up, okay?"  
  
Frank isn't moving. Gerard breathes in his own paralyzing fear.  
  
"I miss you so bad, Frankie. Please wake up. I miss you."  
  
He stays by Frank's bed until it's dark outside and the nurses tell him it's time to go.

***  
  
At night, Gerard dreams about marrying a faceless woman. He dreams about an unknown body, covered in tattoos, and bringing red roses to Frankie's grave.  
  
He dreams about snow freezing on eyelashes and never saying _I love you_ again.  
  
He wakes up at 6 AM drenched in cold sweat.

***  
  
Mikey buys himself a plane ticket to Chicago after Gerard convinces him he's going to be okay by himself. Gerard is having empty days, again. He's sitting alone in his apartment, silence all around, surrounding himself in cigarette smoke and the smell of him.  
  
He finds five items of clothing Frankie left behind and chooses a black and green plaid shirt. Oh God, he loves the smell so much.  
  
He's wearing Frankie's shirt and he's writing one page after another, and then burns the pages in the sink. Then he writes on his laptop, erasing everything just after.  
  
He's wearing Frankie's shirt when he goes shopping. He's wearing it to a comic book store and he's wearing it when it's too warm to be wearing it. He's wearing the shirt when Frank's mom visits him and promises she's not going to pull the plug.  
  
He's wearing Frankie's shirt until it smells nothing like Frank anymore, only Gerard's sweat and cologne and then he just starts wearing another of Frank's shirts.

***  
(Stage 5: Acceptance)

Mikey's Pete Wentz thing is getting out of hand. They become hit news on Perez Hilton's site and Oh No They Didn't after they get spotted in a Chicago restaurant together. This would easily pass as two friends eating dinner if it hadn't been for Mikey fucking _cradling Pete's face_ and then Pete kissing Mikey's hand, eyes locked all the time.  
  
Alicia wants a divorce. Gerard is not surprised.  
  
Mikey isn't surprised either.

***  
  
On a particularly bad day of the gray reality without Frank (Gerard is thinking maybe all of the days will be particularly bad from now on and maybe he should care more, but he can't bring himself to), Gerard goes to Jersey.  
  
He's walking the streets where he used to teach Mikey how to ride a bike. There's this little playground where they were smoking together for the first time and Gerard stops, tightness in his chest refusing to go anywhere.  
  
He is chased through the streets by memories of stupid youth. He doesn't even remember the first time he met Frank, he was just one of the guys he kinda saw around at underground clubs and shows he went to, the one with stupid dreadlocks and a jailbait face. But he remembers them playing onstage together for the first time and there was no earthquake, no perspective shift, just a small 'fuck, that was awesome', and a sense of stability in the most unstable of times.  
  
He thinks about the road that lead him here. He wonders how he became this person, at home but alone – the guitarist of his band (also his lover/boyfriend/someone) in a coma, the bassist going through a messy divorce, the drummer away in Chicago, and only Ray alright as always.  
  
He is chased through the streets by ghosts. He is chased all the way to Frank's little Jersey apartment, retrieves a key from the mailbox and walks in to be damned forever.  
  
There's still a ton of dog food in the kitchen, even though the dogs are being taken care of by Frank's friends and family. There's a fuckload of old, beaten books scattered all over the bedroom floor and three guitars in the corner.  
  
Gerard won't touch the guitars. They're sacred, he is not allowed to.  
  
He just opens a closet and lets the smell of Frankie's clothes wash over him.  
  
He spends an hour sitting on the floor, surrounded by stuff nobody needs anymore, and he is not able to move. He will never be again.  
  
He texts Mikey, because this time, he really needs to be saved.

_Can you please come get me @ Frank's old place?_

Mikey texts back after three minutes.

_What the fuck. On my way_

Gerard hands come across a crumbled sheet of paper on the floor. He smoothes out the wrinkles, trying to decipher Frank's messy handwriting.

_I got my bags all packed and I’m ready to go, I’m standing outside of your figurative door.  
And I’m ready for the flight or to fall of a cliff, but if it’s alright with you I’d rather not miss out on us.  
Cause your face is all i need to stay sane. I’ve spent my life getting in my own way.  
So I could use something good, I really need this to work out.  
Of course the way things have been going it might be smarter to just cash out._

Jesus fucking Christ.  
  
The reality of never seeing Frank's smile again hits Gerard like a ton of bricks. In that moment, that quiet little moment in Frank's apartment with a poem he carefully tucks into one of his pockets, he accepts all the facts he doesn't want to accept.  
  
He is in this alone from now on.  
  
He's lying on the floor, trying not to breathe, for what seems like hours, but definitely isn't.  
  
Mikey comes to get him.  
  
"Come on, Gee, we're going home."  
  
"No, no, no, I don't want to."  
  
"I know, but you have to. Home, to mom and dad. Okay? Get up."  
  
"Mikey. How am I supposed to... What am I supposed to do?"  
  
"I have no idea, Gee. I have no idea."  
  
Mikey sits next to him on the floor and hugs him, and they sit together for more quiet minutes, staring at nothing in particular, cars still going by, birds flying in the sky, people minding their own business.

***  
  
After a week with his parents, Gerard comes back to his place, wearing one of Frank's black hoodies that's a little too small for him, and he hates the place at the very first sight. He sees Frank in every corner of the apartment. On the couch, his feet propped up, watching TV. Smoking on the balcony, blowing out little gray clouds and flicking ash. In the bathroom, looking stupid with shaving cream covering only half of his face. In bed, smiling cheekily at Gerard and making grabby hands.  
  
He's angry again.

***  
  
Two days later he owns a house in Los Angeles.  
  
Four days later, he flies there and wants to come back, like, never.

  
*** 

It's been two weeks since he arrived in LA. He hates it, he hates it completely. He hates how everything is warm and bright and full of vibrant colors, he hates the heat, he hates how people dress and he hates the palm trees, they're just ridiculous.  
  
He tries not to hate his new house, but it's hard.  
  
There are nights when he's telling himself he deserves all of this. He deserves his misery because he let Frank go by himself the day he had an accident. He should've driven him, checked him in the hospital, he should be by his side.  
  
There are so many things he should have done differently.  
  
He's having horrible nightmares almost every night.

***  
  
It's been six months since Frank has been asleep when Gerard's phone goes off at 9 PM.  
  
It's an unknown number.  
  
_Here goes nothing_ , thinks Gerard, and picks up. A woman is crying on the other end of the line.  
  
"Gerard? Gerard, is that you?"  
  
The voice sounds a lot like Linda and Gerard has to sit down, brace himself for what's about to come. He's sitting opposite a hallway mirror and looking at his own face with dead eyes.  
  
"It's me. Hello."  
  
"He's woken up. He's woken up and he wants to see you."  
  
Gerard's phone slides from his hand down to the floor. The battery detaches. The screen cracks.  
  
Gerard makes an inhuman moaning sound, and hides his face in his palms.

***  
  
The flight to New York first thing in the morning is the most anxious Gerard has ever been. At least he doesn't remember ever being more anxious. He swallows two valium when they're above Nevada and falls asleep to no dreams at all.  
  
After he fixed his phone with trembling hands yesterday, he called Linda again and made sure she's telling him the truth. Then he called Mikey, who was extatic because he just heard the news.  
  
"I know it's a lot to swallow, bro, but everything is gonna be fine now. Just fly here tomorrow and fucking see him, I'm going right now."  
  
"I wish I was there with you."  
  
"Shouldn't have moved to stupid LA then", said Mikey.  
  
"Agreed. I think I'm gonna come back to the East Coast anyway."

***  
  
Frank is alone when Gerard reaches his room. He's afraid to walk in, so for a few minutes he just watches Frankie from a distance.  
  
The guitarist is flexing his fingers in front of his face, brow furrowed, biting on his mouth and so delightfully _Frank_ and _alive_ Gerard's insides do somersaults and cry for help, yearning for Frank, struggling to touch him, wanting to forget all the pain.  
  
"I can hear you lurking, you know", says Frank, and Gerard can't help but grin through sudden tears, and then he's fucking running the short distance between them and Frank throws himself into his arms, almost ripping the tubes still connecting him to beeping machines.  
  
_You're an asshole, Frank, you're the greatest fucking asshole in the entire universe, so there's that,_ wants to say Gerard, but he can't, because everything that's coming out of his mouth is a wail and Frank tells him to calm down, calm down, that he's here and he's going to take care of everything.  
  
"I gave up, Frankie. I'm so sorry I gave up. I'm so sorry."  
  
"It's okay. You're here, I'm here. I love you."  
  
And he loves Frank back, loves him back so much there is no room for words, just holding on, just touching forever, becoming part of a whole again. Wow, how did he manage to go for six months without feeling Frank's warm breath on his neck, without feeling his hands squeeze back, without Frank's eyelashes fluttering on his cheeks?  
  
"I don't want to bring flowers to your grave." Gerard feels his heart being slowly, but painfully fixed, and he gives Frank a gentle kiss, even though Frank smells and tastes like six months in a hospital.  
  
It lasts for five seconds but Frank is still short of breath when they break apart, his face wet from Gerard's tears, and it's the most beautiful sight Gerard ever had pleasure of seeing.

***  
  
Gerard brings Mikey to help him prepare the abandoned NY apartment for the arrival of Frank, and Mikey is giving him only a sceptical half – smirk.  
  
"You've cleaned this before you left, it's perfect, just vacuum, buy food and you're good to go."  
  
Gerard vacuums and sends Mikey shopping. The place is fully stocked and spotless, but there is still something missing.  
  
"It's perfect, bro, like I told you. You're overthinking this."  
  
Gerard looks around, walls too white almost like when he first moved in. Except now there are posters on the walls, comic books on the shelves and silly photos tucked behind every frame. Gerard didn't take any of this stuff to LA, it would be like stealing.  
  
"I want to make it perfect for Frank. I want to make him feel at home, you know?"  
  
"Not really. You're the one who's sleeping with him, so you're the one who should know what he likes, Gee. Just make him a bubble bath and blast Misfits or some shit."  
  
He feels nervous and frustrated because Mikey is right, he should know how to make Frank feel good, but suddenly he's lost.  
  
Mikey's getting ready to leave.  
  
"I'm pretty sure Frank will just be happy to be home with you. You don't need no fireworks", he winks and hugs Gerard goodbye.

***  
  
When Frank enters the apartment a few hours later, almost drowning in a jacket he used to wear all the time before his accident, Gerard is stopped in his tracks, because everything clicks.  
  
Frank was the missing soul his apartment needed. The solution is so obvious it brings along a flood of relief.  
  
Now, the place is not empty anymore.  
  
"Whoa, it's good to be home", Frankie breathes out, and Gerard takes his jacket. There's Misfits playing, of course, but medium volume.  
  
Gerard is holding Frank's hand, their fingers lacing together, and he leads him gently to the couch. Frank is wearing a plain black sweater that is so unlike him, but the piercings are back in their places and so is Frank's smile, running a bit to the left.  
  
"Good to have you back home."  
  
They're seated on the couch next to each other and then Gerard pulls Frank so that he's resting on his chest, and Gerard can't stop kissing his black, soft hair.  
  
"So I went to your Jersey place a while back, you know."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Yeah, and I found something there." Not sure if he's doing the right thing, pulls out the page he found on the floor and shows it to Frank.  
  
Frank snorts out a short laugh and gives the page back to Gerard after merely glancing over it.  
  
"Keep it and don't ask any more questions, alright?"  
  
Happiness is growing inside Gerard like a bubblegum balloon.  
  
"I'm going to fall asleep in a while, I'm sorry. Old habits die hard", says Frank, cuddling close, warm and comfortable.  
  
"That's not even funny, you idiot. Promise to wake up?"  
  
"Promise. Don't go anywhere."  
  
He's not going. He would never want to.  
  
He's trying not to freak out when Frank is asleep. The hum of music and the familiar smells put him to sleep pretty fast, too. The night falls around them like a worn out blanket.

So they're bruised and scarred but they're out of this, together, and this is the only thing that really matters.

**Author's Note:**

> I had a hell of a ride with this story, so I hope you enjoyed it. I was quite liberal with the My Chem timeline, sorry about that.
> 
> I'd love to hear some feedback, so if you liked it, let me know. If you hated it, let me know as well!


End file.
